


Does he taste like butterscotch?

by olly_octopus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Humour, It's one of them I can't remember which, Look you thirsty fuckers I try, M/M, Second year fangirls are a blessing, cos apparently I'm not enough of a walking stereotype, fanfictions within a fanfiction, god I love procrastinating, oh well, or a nightmare, prepare for a lot of sniggering, qustionable similes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 08:22:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14209080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olly_octopus/pseuds/olly_octopus
Summary: “Now,” tries Harry who has the public speaking skills and the social skills of a gnat.“I assume you all know why you’re here?”There’s a pause whilst Small Brunette Girl With Twenty Bobby Pins In Her Hair fidgets with a roll of parchment and the rest of the girls exchange glances.“Uhh, do- do you?”“Is it to do with the fanfiction?” asks a particularly small girl who is looking more curious than nervous.Harry makes quick eye contact with Draco, clearly just as confused as he is.“I don’t know? What’s fanfiction?”Harry seems to realise roughly 0.2 seconds after asking the question that this is like asking Minerva McGonagall what the point of transfiguration actually is.*might be getting a second chapter but I don’t know and I wouldn’t count on it if I were you*





	Does he taste like butterscotch?

**Author's Note:**

> yo I tried to be funny please give me validation
> 
> ALSO YO APPARENTLY THE FORMAT THING WON'T CHANGE SO NOW YALL HAVE THIS MAASSIVE ASS PARAGRAPH RIGHT AT THE START IM SORRY I PROMISE IT CHANGES INTO NORMAL FORMAT RIGHT AFTER THAT

Draco Malfoy is a twat. It’s pretty common knowledge that Draco is a twat, loud, sarcastic and condescending and has just about every negative trait of a Disney villain. Harry knows that Draco is a twat. Most of Hogwarts knows that Draco is a twat. Draco knows Draco is twat. Unfortunately it doesn’t stop him being a twat, and Draco likes to gleefully continue being just as patronising and smug as always, taking particular pleasure in taunting Harry at every possible opportunity. So why, why in the name of god, has Harry’s brain decided of its own accord to start obsessing over this walking personality disorder?? Like, not in a romantic way, definitely not, ABSOLUTELY NOT- but whenever Harry’s mind wanders in the middle of A History Of Magic, it always seems to trail along the exact same path which leads to white blond hair and clear blue eyes the colour of the sky on a sunny day... not that Harry had been staring. The thing was, Draco was... pretty. Well, perhaps ‘pretty’ wasn’t quite the word, not exactly, but Draco was at least attractive. He was blond, tall, slender, long fingers with perfectly manicured nails and cheekbones and a jaw line so sharp they could cut glass. Now, Harry wants to clarify that the only reason he knows this is because the stupid little gang of second year Gryffindor girls will not Shut The Fuck Up about him and Harry just happens to be frequently and coincidentally in the common room whenever we they have their stupid little meetings or whatever. Harry would, of course, without a second thought go straight back up to his dormitory whenever he heard the telltale giggles, only Dean and Seamus would probably be making out or something and Would Not Want To Be Disturbed. So, Harry tends to stay. Ron and Hermione Judge Him Severely. “But Harry, we could go out by the lake! We could find an abandoned classroom! We could cast the muffliato charm! You don’t have to-“ “I’m COMFORTABLE.” They leave after a while. However, now the problem was that whenever he saw Draco, the only thing that went through his mind was usually something along the lines of, “Does he really have an arse that could cause an eclipse if he bent over?” which was usually immediately followed by the intrusive and unwanted thought of “Holy fuck they were RIGHT, this is UNFAIR.” Harry is glad Draco doesn't know occlumency. He thinks Draco probably would too if he was aware of the situation. Unfortunately for Harry, Draco has not been present during the girls’ meetings and therefore is beginning to get pretty nervous whenever he tries to shoot an insult at Harry and all that he gets back is a furtive glance towards his... rear end, and an unreadable expression. It’s starting to freak him out, quite frankly. And what’s more, Harry has stopped constantly glancing round at him in the great hall like some kind of demented pigeon which completely destroys the original point of riling him up as much as possible with little dinner time shows. And then, as a result of that, Draco’s friends are beginning to get suspicious because they no longer get the privilege of his little plays. It’s like a domino effect, really, stupid Potter having started it as always. Potter always started it. And nobody ever believed Draco that he had. But now here’s The Thing and here’s The Point Of The Problem because Draco probably wouldn’t mind nearly as much if Potter would only stop looking like an eleven year old girl in the presence of a boy band but noOO why the FUCK would he want to make it easy? Because now, every single bloody time Draco looks in his direction, Potter has to go ahead and scramble for a book to make it appear as though that’s where he was looking and absolutely not at Draco. It’s disturbing, frankly. Draco is Aware that sooner or later he’s going to have to confront Potter about this, and to be honest Draco would rather gouge his eyes out with a spork than have to admit that he pays more attention to Potter than is normal. Tragically this is saying something, because there’s this little gang of Slytherin girls who seem to think that if Jesus and Zac Efron had an affair then Potter would be the result, and it makes Draco want to cry. Blaise has suggested that Draco just shouldn’t listen, but Blaise likes pineapple on pizza therefore his opinions aren’t valid. Things sort of come to a head when the Idiot Girls start asking _him, Draco Fucking Malfoy-_ about his opinions on stupid Potter. What’s he supposed to say?

“Oh yes you stupid little gnats, I too think the sun shines out of his asshole and I do indeed share your opinions on his thighs and how you would pay him to crush your stupid little heads between them. God, it’s not like we’re worst _fucking enemies or anything hahaha._ ”

 

Honest to fucking god.

 

Draco decides It’s Probably About Time to talk to Potter about this, even though Draco detests nothing more than Talking It Out (which is probably the reason he’s eaten leftover pizza which has lasted longer in the fridge than most of his relationships have), and he especially hates talking about anything with Potter if he can help it.

 

However, Draco isn’t sure he can listen to one more conversation about how Potter’s jaw line could slice Gryffindor’s sword in two and Potter needs to tell these girls to Back The Fuck Off before Draco slits his wrists.

 

***

“Oi! Potter!”

Harry turns with a look of a small child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and Draco resists slapping it off.

“What’s wrong, Malfoy?”

Everything. Literally everything. The girls want to know whether Potter is a virgin and they think Draco has the fucking answer for whatever reason. Obviously he can’t say that, though, so Draco has to recount his speech that he practised at least seventeen times in the mirror that morning.

“There’s a group of girls in Slytherin House who are obsessed with you for no reason whatsoever and I would very much appreciate it if you could tell them to chill the fuck out. Oh, and also could you inform them whether or not you’re dating Granger because that’s a favourite subject of theirs and I’m fairly sure they’re going to hex her if they get themselves any more worked up about it.”

 

Harry looks stunned, which is completely fair actually.

 

“Are you sure?”

“Unfortunately yes. Unless of course you know someone else who has your name, is in Gryffindor and has ‘thighs like tree trunks’.”

_Shit that fucking slipped out._

 

Draco is going to move to Mexico and live out the rest of his life as Pablo The Goat.

 

“What?”

“Their words, not mine,” clarifies Draco hurriedly, cheeks burning. Potter is blinking like an awkward goose, as usual.

“Oh. I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about something pretty similar, actually, because I have the same problem in Gryffindor house and believe it or not I don’t go and relax in the common room specifically so I can hear about your arse. So, um, maybe you could help me out if I help you out?”

 

Draco knows he looks like someone’s hit him in the face with a rather heavy cauldron, and that’s infuriating. Potter had better not point it out or The Boy Who Lived would soon be The Boy Who Got Strangled To Death By His Classmate.

 

“Yeah, I can help,” mumbles Draco, trying to will the redness still evident in his face To Piss The Fuck Off.

“Oh, good,” replies Harry, looking a little more at ease.

“Perhaps we could arrange for us all to meet up and get them to stop being creepy about us.”

“Yeah, good idea,” says Draco, realising too late that he complemented Harry’s idea and _since when does he get upgraded to Harry rather than Potter_ and yup he blames all of this on The Girls who can honestly go get fucked for all he cares.

 

Girls, man.

 

Don’t fucking get involved.

One hundred and one reasons why Draco is gay.

 

***

Draco is ready to stab a bitch.

 

Not only has he had to _actually try and be productive_ , but he has had to do it with Harry AND he’s had to actually seek out a conversation with the girls who keep muttering amongst themselves about ‘slow burns’ and ‘darkfic’ and even though Draco has no idea what they are he can only assume they’re planning to kill him slowly and painfully.

 

It takes perhaps two days of wheedling (ugh) and straight up bribery to do it, but eventually the girls all agree to meet up by the lake and Draco feels like crying into Harry’s shoulder from a mixture of relief and exasperation. Luckily he doesn’t, so Blaise gets the hour long rant much to Blaise’s disgust.

 

“I swear you’re obsessed with him.”

“You say one more word, Blaise, and I’ll make sure my father hears about this-“

“Oh, is your father not quite done with being your agony aunt yet? To be honest, he’s the one I feel most sorry for; it can’t be fun to be sent a letter every other day about how brilliantly Potter’s eyes sparkled at 11:34 in potions.”

“You’re dead fucking meat.”

“Okay, Draco. Whatever you say.”

Draco is beginning to think that perhaps Blaise has a point, and that information is utterly infuriating.

 

It isn’t that he’s _obsessed_ with Harry because ew-

It’s more that Harry seems much more at ease around him and has even smiled faintly at him in a corridor once. Draco wishes he knew why, but he Doesn’t and Therefore he settles for being safe in the knowledge that this will all be over tomorrow when he girls will (hopefully) leave them alone.

 

Hopefully.

 

***

Now, Draco has heard of the three witches.

He thinks the idea of them is a bit stupid to be completely honest, extremely stereotypical and he’s at least 97% sure the spell would never work?? But that’s irrelevant because Draco thinks that he’d rather receive a blowjob from the giant squid than have to walk into That Room again and have to see That Fucking Glint in the Small Blonde Girl’s eye again- and then realise there are nine of the fuckers all giving him the exact same look.

 

Oh dear.

 

“Now,” tries Harry who has the public speaking skills and the social skills of a gnat.

“I assume you all know why you’re here?”

There’s a pause whilst Small Brunette Girl With Twenty Bobby Pins In Her Hair fidgets with a roll of parchment and the rest of the girls exchange glances.

“Uhh, do- do you?”

“Is it to do with the fanfiction?” asks a particularly small girl who is looking more curious than nervous.

 

Harry makes quick eye contact with Draco, clearly just as confused as he is.

“I don’t know? What’s fanfiction?”

 

Harry seems to realise roughly 0.2 seconds after asking the question that this is like asking Minerva McGonagall what the point of transfiguration actually is. In the clamour of voices and giggling that follows his question, Draco grabs a bemused Harry’s wrist and clicks his fingers with a bored look on his face until all nine girls have shut up.

“Ladies, ladies,” he drawls, “calm down. Really. Now you, at the front, Glasses Child, tell me what fanfiction is.”

 

Glasses Child in question beams, does finger guns at her friend and steps forwards.

“So you know when you think someone needs to get their shit together and ask the person they like on a date?”

“Vividly.”

“Well, that’s called shipping and it can be done with any two people, and when you write a story about them as a couple it’s called fanfiction. There are loads of types of fanfiction, including-“

“Okay, no, stop right there. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

“And yours,” mutters her friend happily who immediately gets her toes trodden on.

 

Draco stares at them all for a short while.

 

“So you’ve written fanfiction, I take it?”

There’s a positive response and a lot of rather proud nodding from the girls at large.

“I’m scared to ask.”

“Good,” mutters the same girl as before, quickly moving her foot out of the way before someone can step on it.

 

Harry is extremely busy gawping from Draco’s side, and Draco rolls his eyes, nods at Glasses Child before gesturing between him and Harry. Glasses Child smirks, and Draco wonders whether he’s in the timeline that God happened to abandon.

“We do have some with us.”

Draco’s head snaps up and Harry nearly chokes on air.

 

“You can have a look if you want...?”

Draco doesn’t want.

He would rather receive anal from his old house elf than have to read about being wall-slammed by The Boy Who Lived, but sheer curiosity gets the better of him and he puts out his hand resignedly for whatever monstrosity they’ve conjured up about him.

The girls all grin at each other before Small Brunette Girl with Twenty Bobby Pins in Her Hair places her roll of parchment in Draco’s hand with a sinister smile. Draco releases Harry’s wrist and Harry stares at it like he didn’t know he owned A Wrist, and a few of the girls grin at each other.

 

“So let me get this straight... you all wrote this together?”

“Oh yes,” pipes up Glasses Child.

“Like, Olivia has never heard of punctuation in her life but she’s excellent with vocabulary-“

“Okay, yes, I’ve heard enough. Thank you.”

 

He unrolls the parchment and scans it.

 

Harry registers the look of shock on Draco’s face and touches him lightly on the shoulder.

“Draco? What’s it about?”

He can hear all the girls hissing “omg ship ship ship OTP OTP” without the slightest clue what it means, but he’s ignoring that for now.

 

Draco shoves the parchment into Harry’s chest, flushing a deep scarlet and trying to sort out his hair. Harry glances across questioningly at Glasses Child’s Friend Who Is Fond Of Innapropriate Comments and she winks. Fuck.

That can’t be a good sign.

 

Harry tentitively rolls it open and casts his eyes across the parchment.

 

_‘Ron was literally crying with laughter, and Harry looked at him reproachfully._

_“What is it?”_

_“Harry, you just described yourself effectively seducing Malfoy! You pushed him onto a table! You held his hands above his head! You bend your head like you were going to snog him! In his eyes, you were basically asking him to fuck you! This is amazing!”_

_“RON!!”_

_“And then he finally kissed you and you scarpered!” He paused._

_“You did scarper, didn’t you?”_

_“Of course I did! I wasn’t going to hang around, even if he did taste like butterscotch.”’_

Harry looks up at the girls, who all seem to be holding their breath.

“Which bit did you read?”

“The bit where Ron is bursting a lung laughing at the fact that I, uh, ‘seduced’ Malfoy,” he deadpanned.

“Ooh, I wrote that bit,” says a ginger girl with rather questionable blue eyeshadow.

“Er, _does_ he taste like butterscotch? We had to have a bit of a guess, sorry.”

“I don’t know! Why on earth would I know?”

 

There’s a bit of a pause while the assorted audience of tiny girls and Harry all turn to stare at Malfoy who keeps trying to find a suitable parting for his white-blond hair. He stares back in confusion before something clicks and he looks horrified.

“I don’t fucking know what I taste like if someone was to kiss me! You’re all mad.”

All the girls turn to stare at Harry.

“What?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” replies Innapopriate Response Child cheerfully.

 

“Wait-“

“Kiss, kiss,” chants Glasses Child, quickly joined by Innapropriate Response Child, Small Brunette Girl With Twenty Bobby Pins In Her Hair, Small Blonde Girl and then everyone else.

 

Harry looks across at Draco, clearly conflicted, and Draco simply sighs and turns to face him without making eye contact.

“It’ll shut them up,” he murmers with a pink blush dusted across his nose and cheeks.

Harry nods silently and slides his hands around Draco’s waist to cheers and screaming from the girls. Draco scrunches his eyes shut and tilts his head as Harry’s lips come down upon his.

 

Kissing Draco... It’s like drowning in a vat of melted chocolate, warm and sweet, tantalising and addictive...

And it’s making it difficult for him to breathe.

 

He (regretfully) pulls back from the kiss and tries to ignore the rather terrifying gazes of the girls clustered around them like a flock of seagulls or something. Draco is red in the face, lips parted, breathing hard and he stares up into Harry’s eyes through his long pale lashes.

“So,” starts Glasses Child.

“ _Does_ he taste of butterscotch?”

 

Draco gives her a Filthy Look but Harry only laughs.

“I don’t know. I might have to kiss him again to find out.”

 

And Draco just laughs and winds his arms around harry’s neck, and pulls him down into a kiss as the room at large explodes with cheering.

**Author's Note:**

> please tell me I'm funny I need validation


End file.
